


Passin' Thoughts

by Beatriceorme



Category: Brokeback Mountain (2005)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-23
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-09 18:20:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1149282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beatriceorme/pseuds/Beatriceorme





	Passin' Thoughts

He didn’t understand. _What th’ fuck?_ Supposed to be afternoon, _‘round three, four maybe_ but the sky bled gray at the edges, smudges left behind by a worn out eraser, the fine details rubbed out. _Can’t even see Brokeback…no more._ Matchsticks of brittle grass, in open defiance of the dry ground, pin pricked through denim. _Meadow…high up. Must be._ Hard and unforgiving earth tolerated the intrusion. _Fell asleep…nappin', you lazy ass._  
  
Pine and summer didn’t sing, swinging around scents thick enough to grab and stuff a pocket full. Brooding, the air was mostly bland now, plain envelope and paper bland with just a tinge of wrong. _Comin’ up a storm…got t' be._  
  
Silence. A bar after the sputtering Budweiser sign’s been clicked off for the night kind of quiet. _Don’t hear no…woolies neither._ Empty air whispered by, hollow and flat. _Like I’m the…only one…alone._  
  
Time skipped, ticking down quick to darkness, the end, bringing along a numb buzz chilling its way up through the cracks. _Got t' get up…time…soon...be wantin'._ Normal things, stuff a mind didn’t have to think on too hard – arms and legs, muscle and bone – refused to cooperate. With bratty toddler determination, nothing moved, just lay flat and useless, deaf to command and will. _Can’t…can’t, fuckin’…need t'…sure as hell…give me shit…no fire…not even no…beans._  
  
In a firefly’s wink, _tired…so…tired_ it all pushed down, heavy and full. _I’ll...just wait…can’t get…havta’ wait…for…_ The weight of what-ifs chained to shattered wishes wrapped under missed opportunities hiding never abandoned dreams crushed inward. _Wait… soon… he’ll come…wait... me._ A tight fist squeezed a wasted life to dust.  
  
 _Ennis…just wait for –_  
  
Close to quitting time, the sun loitered about the horizon drawing out long and lean shadows from the cattle moseying back towards home and food. Clinging to the dissipating haze, the smell of hay and rain and dung shouted out reminders of what made this world spin. The high whine of tires on asphalt whizzed by, the scrub grass bowing low in reverence, setting up an arid Texas breeze that ruffled through the air, bothering dandelions all puffy white in their late summer togs, but not the fly enjoying a good meal that sat contently between two vacant eyes the color of a Wyoming sky.  



End file.
